The burden of great names
by Freya's Valhalla
Summary: 'We are Peredhil, brother, of the blood of the great three houses of Men and the blood of the first elves ever to awaken in Cuiviénen.' In which Elladan and Elrohir struggle with their heritage and choose their fate.


_**I have finally decided to publish a Tolkien-verse fanfiction. I am both happy and freaked out at the prospect of feedback. Anyway, enough ranting; Tolkien is the boss. Enjoy!**_

-1-

When the twin sons of Elrond first learn the true meaning behind the name _Peredhil_, Elrohir throws a tantrum unbefitting of an elfling and spends two entire days closeted under his bed covers, claiming everywhere else to be unsafe for a half-breed such as him, least he'd catch a disease of men. Celebrían is the one to persuade him out of his improvised fort by assuring Elrohir a spell had been cast on him long ago to ensure his well being. Elladan, on the other hand, wears a wide smile on his face and spends his leisure time sliding tiny fingers over tales of old which speak of his also half blooded ancestors. The Lord of Imladris knows not how to deal with his sons' striking reactions, and thanks the Valar for having been blessed with such a patient wife.

-2-

Once Elladan and Elrohir settle into manhood, they are given their first swords – much to their mother's chagrin – for which they had longed, prayed an even pleaded for ever since they'd heard the tale of the duel of Fingolfin and Morgoth. The swords have not been recently sharpened though, seeing as they were not offered for being put into any use other than training. They will have other swords of their own for spilling blood if needed, even though Elrond wishes his sons would show more interest in the arts of healing rather than in the skills of warfare. The glint of excitement before the unknown shines in their eyes and as they are about to exchange their first swings, the frenzy passes as soon as they hear their father's voice cut through the air, full of the sternness that accompanies his every warnings. They earn a long lecture; Glorfindel silently nodding at Elrond's every statement, but the pride that comes with the acknowledgement of their growth seems enough of a reward in return.

-3-

Years after the twins' first clash of blades, it becomes clear that both brothers are gifted for battle. They ride with patrols whenever surveillance outside the borders of Imladris is needed; lead parties of elves from and to Imladris and Caras Galadhon – and even Mithlond. It will still be several centuries 'til they set foot on a settlement of men, and for that, Elladan is the only one who is sorry. They had asked their father and mother about the elves who reside in the forest Kingdom of the now Mirkwood, but Elrond had only sighed, and so it had been through Glorfindel that they had later learned of the dissentions between the Wood-elves' Kingdom and the other elven settlements borne after the battle of Dagorlad. They do not think much of it from then on, until Elrohir starts yearning to be taught the skill of the bow. Once Celebrían becomes aware of her son's longing, she confides into Elrond, who at first voices his doubts regarding his wife's suggestion, but eventually resolves that perhaps their sons might be able to mend what the fathers once forsook in the name of pride.

Legolas turns out to be a bright and audacious child, imbued with the regal presence of his father and the serene nature of his mother. He is the perfect companion for the sons of Elrond both in age and wisdom, and quickly lives up to his known precocity in the wielding of the bow. For that, the twins are glad, as they have heard of the prowess of the Galadhrim and the swiftness of the Wood-elves, but have never beheld neither as of yet. It is not until several days pass that Elrohir begins to notice the stiffness on his shoulders and the heavy breaths he takes while Legolas still stands as tall as an oak-tree, shooting arrow after arrow at light-like speed. He shares this observation with his brother, who simply shrugs and attributes it to their lack of archery practice.

"_We have rarely wielded a bow and emptied a quiver, much less seen someone of our same age do so. Do not think much of it, brother, our skill will improve with time, and that we indeed have much of." _ Yet Elrohir remained troubled, and when one evening Celebrían draps a scarf over the twins' shoulders out of habit as Legolas and them ready themselves for a quick ride, Elrohir realizes the source of his discomfort was no other than the accursed weakness of his legacy.

-4-

The Secondborn are a strange people to the eyes of unaccustomed elves, but to Elladan, the scent of stale bread and the cry of songs sung in a crowded tavern have long become a part of him. He watches the unreserved glee in men and women's faces, so unlike the quiet elegance of an elf; catches lovers' whispers spoken amidst strangers, an intimacy so prized by his kin; and he cannot help but rejoice at the show of life in such a short-lived race. He only regrets that Elrohir does not seem to share his awe and instead prefers to disregard that part of him which pulses through his veins as much as it does in his twin brother's. Elladan is weary of speaking of the race of Men in Imladris, both for his brother's and mother's sakes, but especially for his father's. Elladan and Elrohir are old enough now to have studied the history of Númenor and thus to have learned that King Elros Tar-Minyatur, the first King of the legendary _Elenna_, was the same Elros who once used to play hide and seek with their father. So Elladan keeps his thoughts to himself, and wonders what mortality must feel like.

The first time Elladan and Elrohir meet a child of men, a boy named Valandil, he is older than them – a difficult concept for the twins to grasp – and he shoulders the heavy burden of becoming king to his people. The next time a mortal child is fostered in Imladris, his name is Aragorn – though he will not be called so for a time - and they outlive him by almost three millennia. The boy has become fatherless and at times, seems also motherless, for Gilraen is lost in the memories of yesterday and ever mourns the loss of her husband, and in a way; her child.

Elladan and Elrohir had not known that the Dúnedain encampment in which the orc raid had fallen upon was the same one that gave refugee to the last descendant of the line of Elendil, but they had still rushed to aid their allies out of allegiance and overall; retaliation. The pain inflicted to their mother by the filthy creatures and the grief gained with her sail was still a fresh wound after four hundred years. The sight of Aragorn clutched at Gilraen's blood soaked breast; the smell of the dead reeking behind them had made Elladan cringe and it was Elrohir who knelt and took Aragorn from his mother's arms just before she cried out in misery. They had rode in grim silence all the way to Imladris, the quietness only being disturbed by Aragorn's childish questions now and then and Elrohir's attempts at keeping up with the boy's inquiries. Gilraen's sobs had been muffled behind Elladan's back. Once they arrived in Imladris, they had found Elrond standing before the household; his face solemn. No words were needed.

-5-

The twins have dwelt among the Dúnedain for short and long periods throughout their life, especially once it became clear that the number of orcs continued to increase and their safety could be severely compromised. The sons of Elrond can recall their first meeting with the Dúnedain – as they can recall everything they have lived precisely – and how similar and yet different their ways had seemed to them. The glory of their people might be all but spent, yet the brother's had thought that the power of the blood they carried still resonated in their mortal heartbeats. It was Elladan who had first suggested riding along the Dúnedain. He would not have asked this of his brother several centuries before, for he knew Elrohir had always struggled with their mixed heritage, though he did not know the reason. Perhaps he truly was weary of being deemed weaker by their kin or just did not know how to cope with being different.

Regardless, they have walked upon Arda for over millennia and have been thoroughly tutored by Elrond and Erestor in elven and mortal lore alike, and thus, should honor both heritages. Even Celebrían had encouraged them to live among men for some time – Elrond also had, though always less eagerly. What better way to mingle with their distant kin than by fighting side by side?

"_We are Peredhil, brother, of the blood of the great three houses of Men and the blood of the first elves ever to awaken in Cuiviénen. Who better than us to stand beside the Dúnedain, whom themselves share the same blood as us If only thinned by mortality?"_ Elrohir had sighed then, the same sigh their father used when he was resigned and yet committed at the same time.

"_You are right, Elladan. It is wrong of me to deny our ties any longer. I shall keep my demons to myself."_

-6-

It is not until Eönwë, the herald of Manwë himself stands before them in Imladris, after they have returned from Gondor to attend Arwen and Aragorn's wedding and to celebrate the hard won victory over Sauron, that Elladan understands what has plagued his brother since the day their father sat them in the Hall of Fire when they were scarcely over forty elven years old.

"_Listen to me now, ionnath nîn, for it is important that you learn why I am called Elrond Peredhel…"_

Elladan glances at his brother, who is standing next to him; tall and with his mouth set in a firm line. He feels his blood rush and the words are caught in his throat. He understands this is what they mean by _the choice_ of the half-elven; the same choice that his father and uncle were once given and his grandparents before them. _Father_. Elladan glances back, but finds they are alone in the courtyard. He wonders if Elrond knows this is taking place now in his sacred haven, if he thinks Elladan will choose mortality and spend the remaining days with his only sister and the brother of his heart. He is sure this is what Elrohir thinks, what he's been thinking for centuries before Aragorn was even born. He cannot explain to his brother the deep bond he holds with the race of Men, for it is a warmth that has always been nested within him before he even knew what it was. Yet when he finally hears Elrohir choose his fate, he is quick to give the same answer. He sees Elrohir stare at him then, and reads the surprise in his eyes. Elladan can only smile at his brother's expression; the presence of Eönwë completely forgotten.

"Did you think I'd let you walk among the shores of Aman, whilst I remained here with Legolas as the last of my companions? Nay, I would not give you such satisfaction."Elrohir laughed at that then – a very unsuitable laugh for an elf – and embraced his brother as if they'd become elflings all over again. And Elrond had thanked the Valar for having been blessed with such considerate sons.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Just in case someone got really lost <strong>– **I'm pretty sure no one did **– '**ionnath nîn' ****stands for '****my sons'****. In theory. I am definitely not a master of Sindarin, I just do what I can with it. **_

_**Feedback is loved! **_


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